


Frankens'Teen - The Drabble Collection

by Vvarx



Series: Frankens'Teen - The Sitcom [1]
Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Frankenstein (Mary Shelley), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sitcom, Tragedy/Comedy, frankens'teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vvarx/pseuds/Vvarx
Summary: Hello everyone, Vvarx here - you might have seen my short 'Frankens'Teen' animatics on Youtube, where I turn Mary Shelley's beloved novel into various sitcomesque scenarios. Since I have a whole lot of worldbuilding for this AU that simply cannot fit into those short vids, I've decided to write some of these down via the occasional drabble, if anyone is interested in learning more about this odd little sitcom universe of mine. Enjoy!
Series: Frankens'Teen - The Sitcom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031184
Comments: 62
Kudos: 98





	1. Prologue - The knock at the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a quick prologue to the events that are soon to happen within this AU - Henry is nearing the end of his university studies in upstate New York, but the arrival of his old schoolmate Victor suddenly leaves him worried about his friend's condition.
> 
> Although I do call this series a sitcom, this initial chapter is a bit of a downer, and explores the main dynamic between Henry and Victor, about a year before the main 'series' takes place.

It was November. Henry remembered that day because of the snow.

Not that early snowfalls were uncommon in this part of New York, as close to the Adirondacks as they were, but the sunny autumn they had enjoyed for a nearly a month had been violently replaced by a week-long cold snap and a half-inch of snow that made Henry regret not getting his snow tires on sooner. 

He was digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen, looking for the phone number of the local car garage when his actions were interrupted by a faint knock at the door.

‘Lou?’, Henry questioned. Surely his roommate hadn’t gotten off work yet? 

The knock returned, a little louder this time, but still hesitant.

‘Does … does a Henry Clerval live here?’, came a shaky voice from the other side.

Now that was definitely odd. 

As he walked towards the entry of the apartment, Henry racked his brain trying (and failing) to remember if he was awaiting any packages that day, which, he was fairly certain, he was not. He cracked open the door suspiciously, half-expecting some salesperson ready to bait him into a pyramid scheme, a polite but firm decline already on the tip of his tongue. 

It was not a salesman.

The young man before him looked tired, his clothes wrinkled, his face sullen. Everything he owned, although seeming to be of good quality, looked like it hadn’t been washed in quite some time. His jacket was far too light for the weather they were having and the suitcase the figure had beside him was stained with the slush of the early snowfall.

It took Henry a few moments before realisation set in.

‘Victor?’, he sputtered, unclipping the chain lock and throwing open the door.

‘H-hey Henry …’, Victor replied, his voice cracking slightly, betraying his relief. 

Five years. 

He hadn’t seen Victor in five years, no wonder he hadn’t recognized him at first. When was the last time they had seen each other? High school? Hell, when was the last time they had even spoken to each other? Henry was pretty sure he had left Victor a voicemail for his birthday last year, but Victor was always terrible with responses, so he wasn’t exactly surprised when he received no answer.  
He had gotten used to the silence. It was just the way Victor had always been.

That said, he would have expected Victor to have the common courtesy to call him before showing up at his door. Swallowing down his annoyance, he ushered his old friend in, and made a mental note to get some paper towels to clean up the slush that was starting to melt off the traveler’s suitcase.

As Victor walked in hastily, Henry scowled. 

No, the time skip wasn’t the only reason it had taken him so long to recognize the young man’s face. Something was off. 

Victor was different. 

His brown hair, although as unruly as always, was shaggy and unwashed, greasy wild curls standing every which way. He had gained a few inches and had lost the baby-face he had in high school, but his sunken cheeks and darkened eyes were more than simply the result of age and puberty. When Henry reached out, pulling Victor into a hug, he could feel how bony his shoulders were, how he swayed under his embrace like an autumn leaf, how even through his jacket, Henry caught the stench of stale sweat seeping from his clothes. When Victor hugged him back it was as if the very action seeped his strength, his arms leaving Henry’s back after only the faintest of contacts.  


The redhead pulled back in worry. This wasn’t … this wasn’t the Victor he remembered. 

‘Victor what are you doing here?’, he finally asked, his tone of voice walking the line between incredulous and concern as Victor removed his jacket and boots. ‘Last I heard you were still in Europe. Are you just back visiting or -?’

‘I’m done. My studies I mean. At least, I’m finished with Ingolstadt’, Victor quickly cut him off, as if wanting to get those words out of his mouth as soon as possible.

‘Wow, wait already? I thought you still had a few more years left?’ 

Henry quirked an eyebrow as he clasped Victor’s shoulder and dramatically raised an arm. ‘Or is the great soon-to-be doctor Frankenstein so skilled that –‘

‘I dropped out’, the words were spoken so softly that Henry worried he had misheard him.

Victor? Drop out? No, no, that wasn’t right. Victor had told him he wanted to be a doctor since he was eight years old. He saw how hard Victor worked in high school, how dedicated he was to his studies, how he never lost sight of his goal. That’s what Henry admired most about him: Victor had always known what he wanted, always knew what his endgame was going to be, even if Henry had always been the …

He frowned. 

_The fanciful idiot who still hadn’t decided on what he actually wanted to do with his life?_

Yeah. That. 

So why would Victor, this absolute pillar of self-assurance, suddenly … drop out?

Before Henry could press for details, Victor gave him a hard, tired look, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder. Henry noticed his brown eyes were bloodshot. 

‘Henry, I just got off a red-eye flight from Munich to New York, plus an 8-hour bus ride. I don’t want to talk about that now, you understand? Later, but not now.’

Henry bit his tongue, the worry for his friend nearly overpowering his own curiosity. As his eyes traveled over Victor’s tired face and frame, Henry couldn’t help but wonder if Victor had gained a few grey hairs since his travels or if it was just a trick of the light.  


Victor seemed to notice his anxious expression and quickly changed the subject.

‘What about you? You still doing that, uh, marketing thing?’, he said quickly, passing Henry as he made his way down the hall. Henry followed close behind, somewhat irked by Victor’s sudden intrusion.  


‘It’s business management and marketing actually. But yeah, I’ll be doing an internship soon …’

They quickly found themselves in the living room. Henry’s apartment wasn’t big, and it was definitely old, but the place had a certain character to it Henry always liked. He had moved in after two years in a dorm and had fallen in love with the tall ceilings and creaky floorboards and most importantly, the privacy. Besides the kitchen, living room and bathroom, the place had 2 decent rooms and one smaller office, so although he did share the place with his roommate Louis, they never really felt cramped. Plus, it was worth it for the price and the short walk to the University, even if their landlord, Mr. Krempe was a bit of a hard-ass. 

Henry’s mind wandered back to that spring, years ago, when him and Victor were both 16 and had made plans to move out together, to go to the same school. What would have happened if that had been the case? If Victor hadn’t graduated a year early, if he hadn’t gone to study in Europe? If he hadn’t left Henry behind …

 _Go into business_ , his dad had told him when Henry had stagnated on what to do after high school, _with that silver tongue of yours, I know you’ll go far!_

So he had. After a full gap year of hesitation, that’s what he did. 

He didn’t really mind it. After all, there were far worst things he could be studying. The presentations, the talking? Oh he liked those, it was just … everything else he struggled with. The aggressive nature of the trade, all the tight handshakes and fake smiles and cutthroat decisions. It was all so … uncaring. That wasn’t _him._

With graduation fast approaching, was that really what he wanted to do for the rest of his life? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Victor’s yelp of surprise, as he watched the brunette sink 4 inches into the room’s scrappy sofa, the springs long since weakened. A well-worn heirloom Henry had inherited off his aunt when he first moved out.  


‘Ah, yeah, it does that’, Henry said with a chuckle before taking a seat across from him in Louis’s ghastly mint-green armchair, also a hand-me-down. 

Victor smiled weakly, but the grin slowly drained from his face as that weary look reappeared in eyes. 

‘Victor, why are you here?’, Henry asked after a few moments of awkward silence. ‘Why did you come see me? Geneva's probably closer by bus than here anyway. Why didn’t you go home, back to your dad – ‘

‘I’m not going back home’, replied Victor, voice brittle. ‘My dad, he … he still thinks I’m in Europe. Everyone does. You’re the only person who knows I’m back.’

Henry stared incredulously at the frail figure in front of him. 

‘You can’t be serious. Victor, your family is probably worried sick about you! I sure hope you’ve at least been in contact with them more than you have with me, because I don’t think I’ve gotten a single text from you in over, what, 3 years?’

Victor said nothing as Henry chewed him out, eyes fixed to the floor. With a huff, Henry stood up, suddenly livid. 

‘And suddenly here you are, banging on my door, out of the blue, like some wandering drifter without even so much as a heads-up? Are you insane? Not only that but have you seen yourself? You look terrible, Victor. Sick even. I should call your dad right now and let him know you’re here, because there is no way – ‘

‘Please Henry, I just …’, Victor’s voice shook as he spoke, stopping Henry’s outburst dead in it’s tracks.

‘I just need somewhere to stay, only a few days. Something … something went wrong at school and I-I made a mistake. I just need to get some stuff sorted out with the University, it won’t take long, I promise. I can’t let dad know about it and I had no were else to go a-a-and you were the first person I thought of …’, his voice cracked, then wavered then broke as Victor buried his head in his hands.

Henry slowly sat back down, stunned.

He had never seen Victor cry before.

Not even at his own mother’s funeral. 

Seeing him like this suddenly scared Henry more than anything else in the world.

‘Of course you can stay Victor’, he said softly.

Even if deep down, everything about those words went against his better judgement. 

Even if deep down, he knew he’d probably regret doing this. Even if deep down, he wanted to kick himself for being such a pushover, for caring too much, like he always did.

But right now, the Victor on his couch was not the Victor from his memories.

And all Henry wanted was to see his friend again.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few fun notes for this chapter:  
> Louis, the name of Henry's roomate, is taken from the 1831 edition when Elizabeth writes Victor filling him in on all of Geneva's gossip.  
>  _'Your favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively, pretty French-woman, Madame Tavernier.' (Frankenstein, p.71)_
> 
> Also, the Geneva where Victor and Henry grew up in this AU is Geneva, New York.  
> Henry's current apartment is in a fictionnal University town set somewhere near the Adirondack mountains.


	2. Departures and Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the little intro chapter is out of the way, THIS is more of the 'pilot' episode if you will of the series.
> 
> Louis, Henry's roomate moves out (mostly because of Victor) and a sudden tall stranger makes an appearance! Who could it possibly be!

It was late summer. Henry remembered because the heat was particularly sweltering and Louis was moving out.

Boxes littered the entryway and lined the hall. Frames and furniture had already been taken down to the truck and Henry was helping pack the last of his soon-to-be ex-roommate’s pots and pans from the kitchen. Which, Henry sadly remarked, left him with a single frying pan, two functioning pots, and the charred remains of the three other unidentified vessels, courtesy of Victor.

Victor.

Henry knew he was the reason Lou was moving out. Oh, he knew. 

As he wrapped a pot lid in newspaper, the redhead sighed. 

It had been nearly 10 months since Victor had showed up at his door, unannounced, looking about as pitiful as a stray puppy and so _of course_ Henry let him stay. Just until he got back up on his feet, you know?

Little by little though, a week turned into a month and a month into several more until suddenly, Victor was basically a permanent resident. Toothbrush and everything.

Now, Henry was still unsure about what exactly caused the A-student he once knew to drop out of University so suddenly, but from what little he was able to gather, it definitely had a violent effect on Victor. Some sort of burnout was Henry’s guess. For the first few weeks following his arrival, Victor mostly slept, but had on-and-off bouts of fever which lead Henry to believe that he had contracted some sort of mono. Victor though, despite his medical background, waved him off, saying that he was fine, and that he’d be back on his feet in no time. Henry did his best to help, making sure Victor stayed hydrated and ate enough (an absentminded habit that Henry remembered him having even in high school), but whenever he brought up the idea of Victor letting his family know about his condition, or hell, even his _location_ , Victor would freeze up, demanding Henry not say a word to them about him, or the state of his studies. 

‘It’ll just worry them,’ he had said.

‘Oh, and you NOT saying a word to them in months will worry them less?’, had replied Henry, handing Victor a bowl of soup while Victor lay buried under 3 layers of blankets on the couch.

‘Yes, and I’ll tell you why’, he said, taking the bowl and blowing on a spoonful. ‘My dad has always said that no news is good news – anything out of the ordinary would be highly suspicious and the last thing I need is his scrutiny right now.’

Henry sighed. 

‘I still think you’re being an idiot. I mean, how bad can it be that you won’t even tell me what happened? I just want to help Victor and I can’t help if you don’t say anything. It better not be anything illegal.’

Victor scowled and stuck the spoon into his mouth so violently Henry could hear the metal clink against his teeth.

‘I told you Henry, it’s nothing. Plus, even if I did, I don’t think you’d …’

His voice trailed off as he starred down at his soup, the bags under his eyes so heavy they seemed to pull his features downward. 

‘I’m just tired Henry. I swear, I’m fine and I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can. Just … please don’t bring this up anymore.’

Henry furrowed his brow and let out a defeated sigh. He knew better than to argue with Victor; between Henry’s prodding and Victor’s granite stubbornness, he knew which of the two would win in the long run.

‘I won’t.’

Henry kept his word. He was _really_ starting to regret it though.

Even now, although Victor was no longer bed-ridden (or couch-ridden in this case), he was still … off. He was often tired and irritable, staying up late into the night and then complaining about the noise when Henry or Lou had to leave early for class or work. He had taken over most of the living room with his dirty clothes and study notes (seriously, if he had dropped out, why the _hell_ did he still need to keep all those?), despite Henry’s instance on being able to use the small unused office for his ‘work’. Victor of course, maintained that he needed the space and that being enclosed wasn’t ‘good for his health’. 

Yeah, like living off of nothing but takeout and energy drinks was.

Henry just didn’t understand what his plan was. Victor had told him that he had gotten all the paperwork sorted with the University of Ingolstadt, but made no move to pursue his studies anywhere beyond the confines of the living room. Henry somewhat understood that, having done a gap year himself, but what Henry DIDN’T understand, was Victor’s blatant lack of consideration for everyone he was currently sharing the apartment with. Sure, Victor had always been quite the character when he’d known him, but never this … self-absorbed. He barely contributed any money for rent without Henry having to twist his arm, he refused to help out with the expenses or chores and him and Lou had gotten into multiple heated arguments over the past few weeks, usually about Victor blaming Louis for having moved one of his many stacks of research notes.

As much as Henry wanted to give Victor as much time as he needed to get back on his feet … this was getting ridiculous. 

With the last of the pots packed, Henry carried the box down the stairs to Lou’s rental truck that was waiting in the alleyway behind the building.

Lou smiled upon seeing him, wiping his brow and taking the box from him.

‘Ah, thanks Henry! That should be the last of them. Oh, by the way, I left you the mint chair –Sandra says we have enough furniture at the new place already’, he said, squeezing the box into the back.

‘Listen Louis’, Henry said, scratching the back of his neck, searching for the right words. ‘I’m sorry the past few months have been so …’

‘Hellish?’, offered Lou, only half-joking.

‘I was going to say difficult, but uh, yeah. I really didn’t think Victor would be so …’

Louis cocked an eyebrow. ‘… much of a prick?’

At that, Henry scowled.

‘Ok, look I know he’s not easy, but he’s been in a bad place these past few months, and I just wanted to -’

At that, Lou grasped Henry’s shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

‘Henry, look at me. I know you’re doing this out of the goodness of your little Canadian heart and maybe you can’t help it, but I cannot for the life of me understand how you’re still friends with this jerk.’

‘Lou, I couldn’t just –'

‘No Henry. Don’t you pull that with me. I know you just want to be nice, and sure when you first moved to the States he was your very first friend. Yes, he’s going though a rough patch, but you’d think that after a few weeks he’d, you know …’

Henry sighed. Lou was right. 

Henry always wanted to see the best in people, he knew it, he’d always been that way. Most people told him that this was a strength, but lately it was definitely feeling more like a weakness. 

‘Yeah, I’ll … I’ll talk to him about it.’

‘You’d better, replied Lou, before slapping Henry’s back in a goodbye hug.

***

After Henry had waved Lou off and had returned to his blistering apartment, he was confused by a strange humming sound coming from the now empty bedroom.

Upon entry, Henry found that Lou’s posters had been replaced with pages and pages of notes and diagrams and badly photocopied manual pages. Dozens more littered the floor. Victor was at the center of it all, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a pair of gym shorts, blowing up an air mattress with an electric pump and swearing under his breath at the task. 

‘What are you doing?’, Henry demanded over the loud hum of the motor, but quickly realising Victor could not hear him, walked up to the wall and unplugged the machine.

Victor looked up, annoyed.

‘What the hell are you doing’, Henry said again, sharply.

‘Well I was _TRYING_ to blow up this new air mattress I got, seeing as there’s finally room for me to move off that awful couch of yours’, Victor said, walking towards the plug.

Before Victor could however, Henry stepped in front of him, his glare quivering between appalled and furious.

‘Ok great yeah, and you didn’t think about - oh I don’t know - consulting _ME_ about this sudden relocation?’

‘I don’t get it, I thought you’d be happy about me freeing up the living room?’, Victor replied, irritated.

Henry clapped his hands together, bringing them up to his face as he exhaled an angry sigh. 

‘This isn’t about _that_ , this is about you taking Lou’s old room without so much as asking me first. What if I had wanted the room?’

‘Do you want the room?’

‘No, I don’t want the – it’s just a question of basic decency Vic!’

Victor stepped past Henry, grabbing the power cord.

‘Lou was a jerk anyway', he muttered, 'Guy kept touching my stuff.’

‘Only because _YOU_ kept leaving all your ‘research’ (Henry air-quoted violently at the word) lying around!’

‘Where _ELSE_ do you want me to put it Henry?’

With that, Henry yanked the cord from Victor’s hand.

‘Victor, listen to me. I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve indulged you in your …’

Henry gestured sporadically at the bathrobed individual in front of him and then at the chaos of the room. 

‘… Whatever _this_ is, but I am serious Victor, with Lou gone you HAVE to start changing that attitude of yours. You need to start pulling your weight around here. Or else I … I will have to ask you to leave.’

Victor looked at him blankly, with that _just-under-the-surface_ haughtiness that Henry was so used to seeing directed at anyone but himself. 

Victor knew. Victor knew Henry didn’t ACTUALLY have it in him to kick him out. 

Henry’s blood suddenly boiled. He sneered, the expression feeling rather foreign on his face, but he felt like he needed it to prove his point.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, the sound a welcomed distraction from the escalading feud.

‘Who is it!’, shouted Henry, as he left the room and marched down the hallway, leaving Victor lingering in the bedroom doorway.

‘I’m … looking for Victor Frankenstein’, came a deep, albeit nervous voice from behind the door.

Henry stopped, not because of the booming voice, but because of the _absolute squeal of terror_ that left Victor’s mouth when he heard his name spoken. Spinning around, Henry could see Victor’s face go white and eyes widen in panic.

Still fuelled by his flair of irritation however, Henry paid him no mind as he marched up to the entryway and yanked the door open, almost hoping that whoever was behind it would be some authority figure, finally here to drag Victor out of his hair.  


When the door swung open fully, it was Henry’s turn to yelp.

The figure standing in the hallway was the biggest person Henry had ever seen. Dressed in a tattered mix of clothes and rags, the … man (?) wore no shoes, and appeared to have walked straight out of the woods, his lower half covered in mud and dirt and leaves. His chest was broad, his shoulders huge and his height stretching well above the doorframe. Through his mattered dark hair, Henry could see a pair of eyes, sickly yellow, set deep within a sunken face with high cheekbones. Taking a step back, Henry shuddered, suddenly feeling like the being in front of him was almost diseased. The stranger’s skin was pale and dry looking, veins transparent under the cracked parchment skin where it peeked through his clothing. His lips, abnormally dark, were twisted into an uneasy frown.

Henry starred, a sort of cold unease pouring over him.

He didn’t move until the being leaned down to addressed him.

‘I’m, uh … sorry for the disturbance. Does a Victor Frankenstein reside here?’

The voice did not seem to match the body. It was deep, but clear. His words well spoken, despite the strange cadence in which the stranger talked. As beastly as the man looked, his vocabulary stated otherwise. Henry couldn’t tell if that fact was reassuring or not. 

Trying not to appear to alarmed, Henry spoke.

‘No, I’m Henry, his roommate … can I … can I help you?’

‘I would like to speak to Victor, is he here?’

Henry suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps running down the hallway as Victor rushed behind him, bolting towards the living room. At the movement, the large man suddenly pushed passed Henry into the apartment, knocking him to the ground. Following the sound of running steps, the stranger flew down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

When Henry finally got to his feet and rushed into the living room, the sight before him was so bizarrely amusing he nearly forgot to be frightened. 

Victor, having obviously tried to escape the stranger via the patio door, had never reached it. Instead, he was now dangling almost comically within the grasp of the large figure, the later having seized the back of his bathrobe and now held him aloft.  
Victor struggled for a moment, before eyeing Henry from across the room.

‘Henry! No! Leave while you can, he’s here to kill me!’

‘What the – no I’m not!’, interjected the figure, glaring at the young man in his grasp.

Victor suddenly slipped out of his bathrobe with a yelp before crashing to the floor, groaning.

Incredulously, Henry’s eyes darted from Victor’s pathetic position on the floor, to the look of surprise and mild concern on the strangers face (who was still clutching the bathrobe), and then back again to Victor sprawled out on the carpet. 

‘Ok I’m sorry’, Henry said, raising his hands, ‘but can somebody fill me in on what the HELL this is all about?’

The stranger nudged Victor timidly with his foot and upon realising that the young man probably wouldn’t be jumping to his feet and bolting out the door anytime soon, he turned back to the redhead. 

‘It’s somewhat of a long story’, he said, pushing back his wild hair awkwardly, ‘I would have hoped Victor would have, uh … already filled you in.’

His earlier fear somehow miraculously forgotten, Henry plopped himself down in the mint-green armchair and folded his arms.

‘Well it’s a good thing I have all day.’

The enormous being nervously wrung his hands together (almost, Henry remarked, like an anxious teenager about to give a class presentation), seemingly searching for a proper way to address the subject. 

‘Well, to make a long story short, I’m, uh … Victor’s reanimated crime against nature.’

Henry starred blankly at the anxious creature before him, before pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes shut. 

He sighed.

‘I feel like I’m gonna need a drink for this.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, and here's our favourite corpse boi! This chapter was a lot of fun to write, mostly because I got to lean into a much more humourous angle than the previous, somewhat angsty chapter. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Writing resident 'best boi' Henry on the verge of snapping is just ... an absolute delight, haha!
> 
> Also, that's right - Henry Clerval is Canadian in my AU! Well, actually, he's half French-Canadian on his dad's side, but moved to the States when he was around 10 (his mom is American). Plus, since the original Clerval was really into languages, I just wanted an excuse to make my Henry fluent in both English and French!


	3. A request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tall strangers tells his tale. How will his creator - and Henry - react to his request?
> 
> The third and final part of the 'pilot' episode.

Henry watched the leftover macaroni bubble and pop in the microwave, fingers drumming on the counter, wondering exactly how to process the information he’d just been served: he had been joking about the drink before, but he really felt like he needed one now.

He was far too sober to believe anything he’d just heard.

And yet the fact that there was indeed a giant man sitting on his couch - a giant _reanimated_ man, if the stranger in question was speaking the truth – was undeniable.

Of all the wild, improbable, _illegal_ things Victor could have possibly done in Europe to drive him to such emotional turmoil, reconstructing and reviving a 7’5 absolute unit of a guy was not Henry’s first guess.

His first guess (Victor having somehow gotten involved in criminal pharmaceutical drug dealing), would have at least been easier for him to wrap his head around. 

How did he do it? _Why_ did he do it? Throughout the entirety of the reawakened creature’s speech, Victor had remained silent (having recovered from his sudden drop to the floor), only offering an occasional nod when Henry had looked to him in shock, requiring a visual confirmation that what the pale stranger was saying was true.

He was going to have to have a very extensive talk with Victor about all this later.

The microwave beeped. 

Henry grabbed the stained dishcloth hanging from the fridge handle and gingerly took out the dish, grabbed a clean fork from the dishrack and made his way back to the living room.

The scene was similar to the way he left it. 

The … being, still sat on the couch, having not moved since he had recited his lengthy tale, his fingers awkwardly laced together as he stared at the worn wooden coffee table before him, his knees clumsily bent sideways to accommodate his height. Victor now stood against the wall, draped in his crumpled bathrobe, his brown eyes still wide with an odd, quiet horror. 

Henry almost felt the need to remind him to blink.

Instead, the auburn-haired young man placed the dish and fork on the coffee table, before settling back into his ugly green armchair.

‘Sorry, it’s leftovers, but uh … figured you might want to eat … something.’

The stranger’s gaze flickered, first at him and then at the plate of food. An involuntary chill ran down Henry’s spine: it was those eyes. Unnaturally yellow and sunken and watery. Still, he felt like it would be rude not to at least offer some semblance of hospitality to the impromptu guest, no matter how abnormal he looked. Especially now, knowing exactly _why_ he looked the way he did. 

‘You’re very kind, I am appreciative of the gesture. Thank you.’

There it was again, that odd cadence in which the visitor spoke, certain words coming out with odd pronunciations, as if they’d been practiced and read, but rarely said aloud. 

Henry absentmindedly wondered if he should try speaking French to him – thanks to his dad he was pretty much bilingual, and he was fairly sure he detected a bit of an accent in the creature’s words.

As the tall stranger took a tentative first bite of the noodles and cheese, Henry glanced towards Victor, uncertain of what to do next.

From the look on Victor’s face, the brunette wasn’t sure either.

After all, what _could_ they do? Tell the authorities, tell the police? Somehow, Henry doubted Victor would allow it, seeing as he didn’t even want to speak to his own family about his whereabouts. No wonder Victor had showed up on his doorstep looking so ragged. Henry was certain that Mr. Frankenstein wouldn’t be too pleased when he learned that his son had been dabbling in unethical sciences, versus pursuing a successful medical career. 

The tinkle of the fork hitting the table made them both turn.

The creature, having finished the contents of the dish in record time, had abandoned the cutlery and was now licking at the plate, cleaning it of every last smudge of processed cheese sauce. It was only when he was finished that he noticed the pair of eyes on him, quickly and bashfully lowering the bowl, wiping his mouth with the back of his large hand.

‘That was quite good, thank you. I’m … not used to warm food.’

Somehow, the statement made Henry’s heart pinch.

However, before anything more could be said, Victor broke the silence, pushing himself up from the wall and crossing his arms.

‘Alright, you’ve told your story. You’ve wandered through half of Europe, you stowed away on a cargo ship, and now you’re here. What do you want from me?’

The dark-haired figure furrowed his brow in Victor’s direction.

‘I should have known you would react this way. Am I really that terrible to you, that much of a burden? Of a failure? I’ve read the notes you left behind, Frankenstein: I’d like to think that at _some_ point you wanted me. Whether you like it or not, I am _yours_ after all.’

With that, Victor raised both hands and shook his head adamantly. 

‘Ooooh no no no, don’t put it like that. You’re making it sound like I’m your father, which I most certainly am not. I owe you nothing. In all honesty, you should have never left that lab.’

‘Oh no, you’ve made that abundantly clear, I can assure you’, the creature said, yellow eyes rolling. ‘Although, I’d like to think that even the cruelest of fathers would have a minimum amount of decency to give even their most unwanted children some sense of identity before casting them out into the cold.’

‘Enough with the poetics: what are you saying?’, Victor spat, squinting at his creation.

The being rose to his full height, fists balled, head barely a few inches from the ceiling. Yet, as menacing as he was from that height, something in his posture, in the way he slouched ever so slightly, reminded Henry once again of a teenager angrily confronting their parent.

‘I want a name.’

Victor said nothing. The silence weighed, itchy and heavy, on the room.

He suddenly erupted into incredulous laughter, far too taken aback by the demand to be angry.

The stranger stared down at him awkwardly. From the look on his face, he expected any possible reaction from his creator except for this.

'You came all this way’, Victor scoffed, hands on his knees, ‘ _all this way_ , for that? For a name? Good _God_ , give yourself a name if it means so much to- '

'It ... it needs to come from you.'

With that, Victor straightened up, the laughter gone, replaced with cold, cruel, seriousness. 

'No it doesn’t. You’ve been doing just fine on your own, from the looks of things. You don't need anything from me and I don’t want anything to do with you.’

A kind of angry desperation wavered in the pale stranger’s eyes as he pressed on.

‘Besides the gift of life itself, aren't our names the first true gift given to us when we enter this world? You know more than anyone else, creator, that everything I _am_ , everything I _have_ , once belonged to another.’

Henry glanced down at the being’s arms, at the angular transplant scars just barely hidden by his ragged sleeves. The lines that marked where one stranger’s limbs met another. Henry didn’t even want to ask where Victor had gotten the parts.

‘Victor, all I ask is … is something of my own.’

For an instant, a shadow seemed to cross Victor’s unreadable face and for just the slightest of moments, Henry thought Victor might actually comply with his poor wretch’s wishes. 

Yet as quickly as it appeared, the emotion was gone, replaced with Victor’s typical look of distaste. 

‘Well, you won’t be getting anything from me.’

With that, Victor stomped off, leaving the apartment and slamming the door on his way out.

Henry watched him leave, unsure of what to do next and even more unsure about what to do with the giant stranger in his living room. Should he ask him to leave? Should he call somebody? What would he even say? _Hello, 9-1-1, my roommate left his giant living corpse experiment in my possession, can you redirect me?_

His musings were suddenly halted when he glanced back at the cadaver in question.

The tall creature’s expression was one of utter despair, his yellow eyes starring at the ground, watery and full and surprisingly human. His brow was furrowed with fretfulness, his hands playing with the licked-clean bowl Henry had offered him. Glancing up, he shyly presented the dish to his host, as well as a small, sad smile.

‘Thank you again for your kindness. I’m - I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion, I won’t bother you any longer …’

As his voice trailed off, Henry’s heart sank.

_No._

_No absolutely not._

_Victor was bad enough, are you really going to -_

‘You can stay if you’d like’, Henry said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

The being looked up, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, uncertain if he had heard Henry correctly.

‘We can’t just have you roaming around town, now can we?’, the redhead said, walking over to a cabinet in the hallway and pulling out a spare towel, followed by a second, just to be sure. 

‘Now … you know how to work a shower, right?’

xXx

From the crack of the door, Henry and Victor watched as their newest roommate stirred in his sleep, his large form dwarfing Victor’s air mattress that had since been uprooted and relocated to the smaller office room. Despite his awkward, curled up position, the stranger looked content, and in this light, not nearly as uncanny. His dark hair was much less wild since his wash, his ragged, dirty clothing replaced with a few XXXL items Henry had found abandoned in the laundry room. He would try his best to get him some decent clothes later this week – for now, those would have to do.

After glaring at the figure for some time, Victor spun towards the other young man, whispering angrily.

‘I can’t believe you let this … this _creature_ –’

‘Your creature’, Henry corrected him.

‘– Stay here!’, Victor continued. ‘Who knows where he’s been or what he’s done! Are you out of your _mind_ Henry?’

With a knife-sharp gaze, Henry glared back at Victor.

‘Well, I let _you_ stay, didn’t I?’

And with that, Henry turned and disappeared into his room, leaving Victor alone with his thoughts, in the dim flickering light of the hallway.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes my kinda 'pilot' episode for the series, aka further cementing Henry's status as best boy. Good on your for sharing your mac n' cheese, bud!
> 
> So, a few notes:   
> The biggest and most important character dynamic in this AU is Victor's relationship with Creature, and how they each go through very different yet intertwined character arcs.
> 
> As opposed to the original book, Creature seeks out Victor not to demand a companion, but in a quest of identity - he wants a name, a sense of belonging, a confirmation that he is in fact a person and worthy of being recognized as one by his creator.
> 
> Victor, refusing to give him one at the start of the series, ties into his own arc - him learning to accept responsabilities and stop running from his problems and his fears.
> 
> Frankens'Teen - come for the gags, stay for the character analysis, haha! 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. The upcoming parts will probably be more episodical, but since some are already written, they should arrive a bit sooner. Stay tuned!


	4. Second-hand comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creatures hates thunderstorms. Victor loves them.
> 
> A softer chapter in which we explore a rare moment of bonding between the disfunctionnal duo.

‘Storm’s coming.’

Victor looked up from his cereal, or as Henry liked to call it, his ‘multigrain fancy-schmancy rich boy’ cereal. Although it was two in the afternoon this was still his breakfast, the bed-headed brunette having only woken up about 20 minutes ago. 

‘What?’

‘There’s a storm coming’, repeated Creature, looking out the window at the currently clear sky, arms crossed and absentmindedly rubbing the scars on his forearms. 

Victor raised an eyebrow at the towering figure.

It had been a little over a month since Henry had so graciously (and stupidly) granted Victor’s unwanted science experiment a place to crash. Typical Henry, letting the brute in like he was some sort of stray dog. If the constant dark hairs Victor kept finding in the carpets and in the shower drain were anything to go by he sure shed like one, that was for sure.

Yet Victor had to admit, the beast they had unanimously decided to call Creature (at least for the time being - like hell he was going to name him) wasn’t … as bad as he had initially feared.

Plus, now that Henry and him were able to bring up their neighbor Felix’s old futon that was headed to the curb, Creature finally had his own bed. This had considerably improved Victor’s mood, seeing as he had taken back his mattress and was no longer   
sleeping on Henry’s awful couch. 

‘I mean …’, Creature began, looking back at Victor while he pushed a strand of hair from his sunken face, ‘I can feel when a storm is coming. In my bones, I mean. They ache whenever bad weather is expected.’

‘Fairly normal reaction, really’, Victor explained. ‘When the atmospheric pressure drops, the fluids in the joints and other soft tissues expand. You’d be particularly sensitive to that since, well …’

Victor made an all-encompassing gesture towards the reconstructed being with his spoon.

Creature looked down at him blankly. His general interest in Victor’s explanation quickly dissolved.

‘Good to know’, he stated dryly.

Victor shrugged and returned to his cereal as Creature’s gaze turned back to the window. 

‘I … don’t like storms’, Creature said after a moment, staring out at the Adirondacks mountains in the distance, watching as distant clouds slowly enveloped their peaks.

‘Well I do’, Victor quickly piped up. ‘I love thunderstorms.’

‘Why does that not surprise me’, Creature responded, irritated.

More in response to his creation’s annoyance than anything else Victor continued between bites.

‘Thunderstorms are fascinating, you know. Easily my favourite weather phenomenon. The thunder, the lightning, all that static electricity in the atmosphere …’

Victor walked over to the kitchen, rambling on about low-pressure systems and cold fronts, dropping his now empty bowl into the sink. Creature was almost about to remind Victor to rinse it (for Henry’s sake), but the young man’s genuine excitement intrigued him and it felt wrong to interrupt. For the past few weeks, he had seen Victor mostly grumbling and scowling, so seeing him so openly enthusiastic about well, anything really, felt about as rare as watching a solar eclipse.  
Victor paused a moment, his gaze lowering to the floor.

‘When I was younger, my mom and I would go on our back porch during storms and look out over Seneca Lake when the clouds would roll in. We’d grab pillows and my favourite blanket and just sit there, warm and cozy while these furious downpours would rattle the house.’

Victor waved his hands violently downward for emphasis and Creature couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

‘Sometimes’, the brown-eye boy continued, ‘she’d help me pitch one of those small kiddie tents on the porch and I’d stay out there all night, just watching as the night sky lit up so bright, you’d think it was noon.’

Victor smiled fondly to himself, leaning against the fridge.

‘Those are … some of my favourite memories with her.’

‘Your mother’, Creature remarked tentatively, ‘sounds like a lovely person.’

Victor’s face suddenly grew sullen, his features pinching noticeably downward. 

‘She was’, he said quietly, before brushing past Creature and returning to his room without another word.

Not quite knowing what else to do, Creature slunk into the kitchen and washed Victor’s bowl before returning to the window. 

The storm clouds on the horizon inching ever closer.

_xXx_

Creature had been right.

Standing on the porch just off the living room, Victor let the wind and the rain hit his face and soak through his shirt. A _‘real good storm’_ as his mom would say, the thunderous claps growing ever stronger with every flash of light that split the night sky.

He took a deep breath.

This was indeed a good storm. She would have liked this one.

Glancing at his watch, he sighed. It was about time he headed back to bed.

Stepping silently into the living room, Victor wiped the water from his eyes, making his way quietly down the hallway towards his room.

That is to say, he would have, if he wasn’t halted by a faint sound coming from his left.

The door to Creature’s room was nearly shut. Nearly. 

Though the crack, Victor could catch a glimpse of the large figure sitting up in bed, a thin bedsheet wrapped around him, back against the wall.

As a rumble of thunder reverberated through the walls, he heard a weak whimper as Creature tucked his face into his knees. Victor could have sworn the silhouette was trembling.

The young scientist, still soaked to the bone and dripping onto the hallway carpet, bit his lip for a moment before creeping back into his room. 

He returned moments later with a well worn woolen blanket.

Silently pushing the door open Victor entered the room, the figure on the futon looking up with a mix of surprise, embarrassment and anger at the sudden intruder.

After an awkward pause Victor clumsily threw the blanket over the creature’s large shoulders. 

Yellow eyes stared back at him warily through the darkness, expecting some kind of jab or quip, or snide remark.

Nothing came.

Timidly, his large hand touched the fabric, his thumb running along the stitched edges. 

It felt warm.

‘She … she'd have wanted it to be put to good use.' 

And suddenly Victor was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Clutching the blanket around his large body, Creature remained silent and motionless, baffled by the fleeting encounter and even more so by the unanticipated offering. 

Yet somehow he understood. 

Victor wasn’t the affectionate type, even less so with a being such as him, yet, this second-hand comfort was the closest he had ever come to his creator’s touch since he first arrived.

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles before settling under this newly granted warmth, the storm outside slowly fading away.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor? Being, dare I say ... kind? What IS the world coming to!  
> Haha, but yeah, hope you all enjoyed this scene; it's always so interesting to explore Victor when he's being more emotionally vulnerable.
> 
> The truth is, Victor is a really emotional person, but tends to keep up this wall, because he knows that getting too attached to people only leads to pain, as was the case with the death of his late mother (a subject that will be covered in a future chapter, don't you worry). 
> 
> Another quick mention about Creature - although his body is superior to the average human body on many levels, he does suffer from reoccuring joint and muscle pain, especially in bad weather. This is of course a major reason for his dislike of storms, but he also encountered a particulary terrible one on during his trans-atlantic sea voyage as a stowaway and needless to say, yeah, left a pretty terrible impression on him.
> 
> Oh! And a thing I forgot to mention last chapter: my version of Creature is actually 7'5 as opposed to the book's 8-feet. Why? For the simple fact that ceilings are usually 8-feet and I didn't want to have to commit to drawing him/writing him constantly bumping his head or slouching. 
> 
> Is that just me being lazy? Probably. But hey, it's my AU and I'll do what I want, haha!


	5. More than Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his roomates arguing next door, Creature slips into Justine's apartment for some late night tea and a heartfelt talk.
> 
> A somewhat lighthearted chapter that gives us a first look at Justine and Creature's dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, a big thank you to Charlemagne1 for being my proofreader on the last few chapters!  
> (Y'all should go check out her Ernest-centric Frankenstein/Lovecraft crossover, 'Ask of the Lesser' - good stuff right there! )

It’s late. Well, not that late, but later than Justine would have liked, given that she was planning on finishing that essay tomorrow (and by finish, she meant start). Still, there she sat, in her and her roommate Elizabeth’s kitchen, her messy bun a tad messier than usual and sipping a mug of tea across from her most unusual late-night guest. 

Said guest was indeed out of the ordinary, and that was putting it lightly. After all, he was in fact, a massive, dark-haired undead science experiment courtesy of their next-door neighbour. That said, after weaning herself off the initial shock of realizing that Liz’s childhood friend across the hall had brought a mass of body parts back to life, she found there was something oddly … endearing about the guy? 

Was that weird to say? She felt like that was kind of weird to say.

In all honesty, she could overlook his yellowed eyes and veiny complexion, so long as he was polite and kept things quiet after 11 pm – something his creator wasn’t exactly known for.

_Speaking of which …_

‘So, what’s Victor yelling about this time?’, she says, glancing vaguely towards the door where muffled arguments could be heard emanating from the other apartment. 

Creature (at least, that’s what he had been calling himself for the time being. He had tried Thomas for about a week, but it didn’t really stick), frowned slightly, large hands drumming absentmindedly against the rim of his mug.

‘I’m not sure. I think it involves Victor’s weird science drawer?’

‘Science drawer?’

‘In the fridge. Henry threw out some of Victor’s weird moldy containers, and now Victor’s mad because those were ‘for science’, even if they clearly were not in their designated drawer.’

Justine can’t help but laugh. Yep, that sounded like Victor. So weird to think that the friendly and approachable Liz used to be best friends with that ass. 

Raising his gaze, the dark figure across from her smiles. ‘Anyway, thanks for letting me crash here for a bit.’

‘Nah, it’s no problem!’, Justine replied with a wave of her hand. ‘Liz is performing at a wedding and won’t be back until tomorrow, so I don’t mind the company.’

It was true, she did enjoy Creature’s companionship – he had a genuine sense of curiosity and enthusiasm that made spending time with him rather nice. She was pursuing a teaching career, so it was always enjoyable to see someone eager to learn new things; she had spent all of last weekend educating him on some basic cooking skills since she couldn’t stand the thought of Henry’s steady rotation of pasta _à la_ powdered sauce packet being his main staple any longer. 

‘Honestly’, she said, taking another sip of her chai, ‘when things are too quiet, it makes me kind of uneasy.’

Creature raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, I grew up with a lot of siblings, so you kinda get used to the noise. It’s only when I moved out that I realized I missed it.’

She opens her phone, and flicks through for a moment before holding it up for Creature to see.

It’s a photo: six individuals with their arms around each other, standing in front of a waterfall. He recognises Justine on the far left, her arm draped around a shorter boy, probably a younger sibling: they have the same curved nose, scrunched up slightly as they squint in the setting sun of the photo. Next to her stands a tall blond man with glasses, grinning widely. At his side, a shorter woman, dark wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail, her warm brown skin a shade darker than Justine and the rest of her siblings. To the woman’s side stands another tall young man, handsome, giving a thumbs up to the camera, and finally on the far right, another girl, her long dark hair braided over her shoulder. 

‘I’m the third of four kids.’, Justine says, ‘Technically both Sonia and Ryan moved out before me, but yeah, it took me a while when I first moved in with Liz to get used to the lack of noise. For once, I kind of missed hearing my dad making his smoothies at 6 am.’ 

‘I can imagine’, Creature replies. Although he tries his best to hide it, Justine can catch the sadness in his voice.

_Geez Justine, really? Going off about family to HIM of all people? You idiot! Stupid stupid stupid!_

Resisting the urge to slap herself, Justine jumps from the barstool and makes her way to the fridge.

‘Anyway, you uuuh, hungry for anything? I can make like … nachos’, she says, yanking the door open and grabbing a half-empty bag of shredded cheese.

‘Do you … get along well with your family?’, Creature says quietly, suddenly very preoccupied with the kittens on his mug.

She pauses, shutting the door slowly, still holding the bag. She can tell by his tone of voice that this was more than just small talk.

‘I mean … I guess so? As much as a typical family does.’

She scratches her neck, staring at the ceiling as if the words she was looking for would magically appear there.

‘If I’m being honest, I probably wasn’t the, uh, easiest kid to handle. At least out of my siblings. My dad always called me ‘headstrong’, which was just the polite way to say stubborn. I went through a bit of a phase when I was like 14 or 15 where I was _constantly_ at odds with my mom. Like, I was convinced I was her least favourite kid, because I felt like she was _always_ on my back. Shouting matches, slamming doors – the works.’

Looking back at Creature, she has to stifle a laugh; the look of incredulous shock on his face was almost too comical to be serious.

‘You? Really?’

‘Ooooh yeah, I was a little shit. I also wore a fedora unironically to school for a while too. Even snuck it in my bag and wore it for a class picture one year. Mom was _so_ mad …’

Sitting back down at the counter, cheese still in hand, Justine can’t help but smile to herself before looking back up at her pale companion.

‘… but she still has that picture hanging in our hallway back home.’

She watches as Creature’s gaze softens ever so slightly before continuing.

‘All this to say, there definitely were times when I was sure my mom hated me. And there were times when I really hated her back. With time though, you kinda realize that the things you fought over were never all that important and we eventually found a way to work things out. My mom is aware of the things that push my buttons and I try to avoid pushing hers. Not saying that we don’t still have some disagreements, but I’m probably closer to her now than I ever was in high school.’

As she finishes off her tea, Creature’s yellow stare falls to his own mug, now lukewarm. 

‘It’s nice you were able to work things out’, he says softly. 

A warm hand suddenly finds its way to his scarred arm. Creature stiffens at the touch, but allows it. She smiles at him, brown eyes soft. 

‘And things are going to work out for you too.’ 

Her voice is so sincere he almost believes her. 

Almost.

Finishing the content of his mug in one long sip, he shuffles over to the sink, scowling.

‘Easy for you to say. It’s not like the closest thing you have to family is a narcissistic, foolhardy dropout that hates your very existence’, he spits.

‘Ok, ok, understandable, Victor is an asshat’, Justine replies, ‘but over time, I’m sure you’ll both be able to find some common ground, right? I mean, what do you want to do? Go on loathing each other forever? You can’t do that - you’re both only human.’

At the word, Creature seems to bristle, whipping around as his long dark hair falls into his grimacing face. Justine hates herself for shuttering. 

‘Don’t say that Justine. I’m not human. I never will be. Not like you, or Victor or anyone.’

Regaining her composure, Justine stands to face him, crossing her arms.

‘Well, last I checked, you seemed pretty human to me. Capable of reason and emotion and -’

His look of anger quickly melts into frustration.

‘That’s not the point! I mean, you _do_ realize how unnatural this is, right? How unnatural _I_ am? Have you seen me? Every part of me was _dead_ at some point, Victor can confirm -’

Justine meets his gaze and doesn’t let go. It was impossible to look at him eye-to-eye given his size, but from her height of 6’2, she was the only one capable of coming close.

‘That doesn’t make you any less human, Creach.’

He pauses at her words, yellow eyes guarded, before pushing past her with a grunt of irritation.

‘No, no, that’s the problem! I am not _less_ than human, I’m … I’m … _more_ than human! I’ve crossed into another plane entirely; a plane that real _human_ people don’t cross into! I shouldn’t even _exist_.’

As Creature paced the kitchen, arms gesticulating wildly, Justine can’t help but think of Victor. Family or not, their mannerisms were more similar than they thought.

She tries again.

‘Maybe so, but it’s not like that makes you a monster.’

‘Maybe not, but I am _FAR_ from human, Justine. Real people die and yet somehow, because of Victor’s science bullshit, I’m – I’m …’

He sank back down onto the kitchen stool, the furniture creaking with his weight. Burying his head in his hands, he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

‘I just - I don’t know what I am’, he said after a long pause, pushing his hair back.

Silence fills the small kitchen. Neither of them speaks.

‘You’re like cheese’, Justine suddenly says.

‘Excuse me?’, he stammers, looking up only to find the bag of shredded Monterey Jack in front of his face.

‘You’re like cheese.’, she repeats.

His eyes dart from the bag to her face, waiting for some sort of punchline, blinking in confusion. 

‘I mean, think about it’, Justine continued. ‘What is cheese? Old milk right? Coagulated, full of bacteria and stuff. And when you hear that, you kinda think, ‘Oh ew, gross, nasty clumpy left-in-the-fridge-too-long milk', right? But cheese? Cheese is delicious. When milk goes beyond being milk ... it becomes cheese.’

She smiles a lopsided smile in his direction.

‘Doesn’t make it any _less_ dairy, it’s just like, an evolved form of it. A superior form of it.’

A moment passes, and Justine is still holding his gaze firmly, mentally crossing her fingers that her silly analogy would get through to him. 

With a bewildered shake of his head, the tall being holds back a laugh.

‘Did you just equate my entire existence to ... cheese?’ 

‘Maybe I did’, replied Justine, smirking.

Creature can’t help but grin back.

‘I don’t know if those are the wisest words I’ve ever heard or the most ridiculous.’

‘I like to think it’s a bit of both.’

And at her words, he laughs. A real laugh. The first real laugh Justine has heard from him since they first met. It’s deep and rich and seems to fill the room and Justine can’t help but laugh too. 

_I never realized he had such a nice smile …_

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have followed my Instagram comics, you already know of Creature's love of cheese - hence, it was only logical that I take what started out as a joke and somehow turn it into a moment for character analysis, haha!
> 
> I've mentionned this before, but Justine is slowly becoming one of my favourite characters to write for. Not only do I love her dynamic with Creature, but compared to Henry and Liz who have both known Victor for years (and are somewhat more forgiving of his antics), Justine is really detached from Science-Boy and his drama, and acts almost an audience surrogate in that regard. It is very VERY satisfying to watch her drag him through the mud, and trust me, there will be more of that, hehe. 
> 
> The only thing I really kept from her book origins was her love of kids (hence her studying to be a teacher), her status as the third of four children and her somewhat tumultuous relationship with her mother, which again, in this '100% less tragedy AU', just means that Justine was a bit rambunctious in her teen years much to the chagrin of her rather serious Indian mother. She also gets her tall height from her dad's side, himself being of Dutch descent. 
> 
> All in all, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I am very excited to continue exploring her character in future instalments!


	6. The Microwave Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a kitchen mishap arises, Victor and Creature team up to try and fix the problem before Henry comes back.  
> Justine however, is displeased when she gets unknowingly roped into their scheme.
> 
> A shenanigan-fueled chapter featuring my favourite Frankens'Teen staple: Justine calling Victor out for being an idiot - enjoy!

The apartment door being thrown open wasn’t reason enough for Victor to raise his eyes from his laptop, but being slapped in the face with an envelope most certainly was.

Now, the slap didn’t _actually_ hurt, but the action itself was enough to miff him considerably. However, before he could deliver any form of verbal comeback, his eyes met Justine’s scowling gaze.

Oh.  
_Oh no._

‘What the hell is this?’, Justine spat, shoving the envelope in his face.

In some panicked form of self preservation, Victor decided that playing dumb was the best course of action. 

‘What is … what?’

Justine cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Peering down at him from where he sat on the couch, she eyed him like a hawk having corned a particularly stupid rabbit.

‘This’, she said, yanking out the folded slip of paper from the envelope, ‘is a notice for an additional fine I seemed to have received for an unpaid parking violation two weeks ago. On Thursday the 27th.’

She glanced back at Victor, still trying his best to appear oblivious and failing miserably. 

‘The thing is’, she continued, ‘I distinctly remember NOT using my car on Thursday the 27th. I was here, studying for an exam. Never left the building.’

Placing a hand on her hip, she leaned over the brunette. Her voice lowered menacingly.

‘Now, tell me, _science boy_ , you wouldn’t happen to have any … hypotheses about how that could have happened, do you? Because something between the cause and effect here doesn’t line up.’

Victor gulped, suddenly hyperaware of the itchiness of his sweater on his neck.

The faint creaking of a door was suddenly heard.

Justine spun around, only to catch Creature, hand on the doorknob, trying his best to sneak out of the apartment unnoticed. His eyes meet hers. Like an undead deer in the headlights, he froze immediately.

So they were _both_ involved it would seem.

Before Creature could make another move, Justine snapped her fingers and gestured at him to join his maker on the couch. With an awkward slouch, Creature shuffled over, unable to make eye contact with the tall girl’s piercing gaze.

‘Now, if you two are both in on this little scheme, I suggest you come clean now or so help me, I'll make YOU wish you were never born, and YOU wish you were never made', she barked, gesturing at Victor and then back to Creature.

After exchanging a panicked glance with his creator, Creature cleared his throat awkwardly. No sense trying to hide it now.

‘Well’, he began, ‘it all started with the microwave … ’

***

More precisely, it all started with Henry’s microwave.

Which, on this lovely Thursday evening, sat in smouldering ruins on the kitchen counter, the door blown open, ravioli flung onto every possible surface while bits of shredded aluminium littered the floor.

Creature and Victor both stood at the edge of the kitchen, the scarred figure wearing a rather guilty expression. 

‘You … blew up the microwave?’, Victor stammered, voice teeter-tottering between anger and some odd form of awestruck.

‘I mean, not on purpose’, Creature replied, wringing his hands nervously. ‘Henry told me before he left that I could reheat some ravioli, so I – '

‘So you nuked the ENTIRE CAN?’

Creature’s guilty expression quickly morphed into sizzling annoyance.

‘Victor, might I remind you that you were the one who told me to simply, and I quote: _pop it in the microwave_. I did exactly as you said.’

‘I didn’t think you’d just throw the whole can in! Didn’t you read the instructions first?’

Victor didn’t bother waiting for a response, instead gingerly stepping between the shrapnel pieces and the sauce splatters in order to get a better look at the demolished kitchen appliance. Carefully, he attempted to press the door back into place, but with a disconcerting crack, the weakened hinge broke off. 

Still holding the door of the now _very_ broken microwave, Victor glanced back at Creature, face pale. 

‘Henry is going to kill us when he gets back …’, he muttered, his usual snarkiness replaced with growing dread.

At that, Creature’s brow furrowed in worry and guilt. 

After all Henry had done for him these past few months? No, no, they had to find a way to fix this.

‘We could … we could purchase a new one? Henry’s working late tonight at the pub, so we might have time to get a replacement before he comes back’, he offered.

Victor bit his thumbnail absentmindedly.

‘Maybe … but Henry took the car. How are we going to get to a store?’

‘What about Liz? She has her scooter, right?’

‘Nah, she left a little while ago for a practice. I wouldn’t want to … I don’t want to bother her’, said Victor, frowning as he stepped on a piece of pasta. ‘Plus, I don’t think her little moped is going to be great for transporting a – ‘

The brunette’s eyes suddenly lit up in realization. 

A look Creature did not like one bit.

‘Justine has a car’, Victor said, grinning mischievously. 

‘Well I … yes, she does. But do you really think she’s going to just drive you to the store? She has an exam on _The Mysterious Stranger_ tomorrow and I doubt she has the time to help you with your plight. Not to mention she finds you rather … irritating.’

Victor grimaced back at his creation with a look of open-mouthed indignation.

‘Ok, first off, how do you _know_ these things? And secondly, this is _our_ plight, remember? YOU blew up the microwave. That’s why YOU are going to go ask her for the keys.’

Taking a step back, Creature raised his hands in protest, yellow eyes appalled. 

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Why not! Like you said, she needs to study – I’ll drive us to the store, we’ll get a new microwave, and we’ll be back before you know it. Plus, like you said, she doesn’t like me – she’ll be a lot more willing to let you borrow the keys if YOU explain the situation to her.’

Crossing his arms, Creature blew a strand of hair from his gaunt face.

Victor had a point. Plus, he couldn’t stand the thought of Henry being angry at him. 

Or worse. _Disappointed._

With a defeated sigh, he slunk to the door.

‘Fine. I’ll ask to borrow her car keys.’

Victor nodded with a satisfied smirk, side-stepping more ravioli as he made his way to the sink.

‘Good. In the meantime, I’ll clean this up. Be quick though, the stores close in like, 30 minutes.’

***

With the main entry to their building locked at all times, both Henry and Liz usually left the front doors to their apartments unlocked if they were home, seeing as all five of them usually came and went between the two dwellings anyway.

That said, Creature did find it strange when he knocked on the opposite door only to be met with silence.

He tried again, a bit louder. Still nothing. 

Leaning in, he could hear music coming from the other side. Justine had to be home, so why wasn’t she answering the door? Had something happened?

‘Justine? Hey, I need to ask you something, can I come in?’, the tall being enquired nervously, before cracking the door open. 

At first glance the place looked empty, until a soft snore caught his attention.

Stepping inside, Creature peaked over the couch, where Justine was sound asleep, her laptop still on and her cup of tea growing cold on the coffee table. Her study notes on _The Mysterious Stranger_ were strewn about the couch – he recognized them at a glance, having stayed up late with her the past three nights as she studied for her exam, quizzing her on possible questions. It looked like all those late nights had finally caught up to her.

That’s when he spotted them. Her car keys. On the coffee table, right next to the laptop.

A thought crossed his mind and he immediately recoiled at the idea. 

No. No he couldn’t just _take_ the keys, that would be stealing. Or at the very least, unsolicited borrowing. It felt _wrong_.

But then again … he hated to wake her. She looked comfortable and probably needed the sleep. 

After a moment of hesitation, Creature figured that desperate times called for desperate measures. Plus, they’d be back in twenty minutes tops: chances were he could sneak back in and return the keys without her even knowing. _Simple comme bonjour_ , as Henry would say. 

He crept around the couch, hand stretched outward to snatch the keys in question.

Justine suddenly lurched upright and Creature all but jumped out of his second-hand skin.

‘Creachmm, ‘zthat you?’, she slurred, eyes half shut.

Heart still beating wildly at this sudden response, Creature was unsure of how to reply. 

‘Hey Justine, yeah, it’s me’, he whispered awkwardly, ‘listen can I please borrow your car keys? I blew up Henry’s microwave with a ravioli can and me and Victor need to get a new one before Henry comes back and kicks me out.’

With a sleepy blink, Justine starred vaguely in his direction.

‘Ravioli?’, she uttered, as if the word was from some long-lost language she had never heard.

‘Uh … yes.’

And with that, she promptly collapsed back onto the cushions, muttering a sleepy ‘mmm’kay’ before rolling over with a yawn. 

Creature blinked twice, still confused by her sudden act of somniloquy, but ultimately taking that as a yes.

Grabbing the keys, he quickly rushed to the door, but not before darting back to the couch and throwing a blanket over her sprawling form. 

When he returned from across the hall, Victor was glaring at him, jacket already on, ready to leave. 

‘So? Did you get them? The kitchen is clean, but we’re going to need to hurry if we want to make it to the store on time.’

Tossing Victor the metallic objects in question, Creature promptly grabbed the oversized hoodie Liz had found for him and pulled up the hood, effectively masking most of his uncanny appearance from the public. 

‘I did, but don’t _ever_ make me do that again, please.’

‘Then don’t put cans in the microwave again, simple as that!’, replied the young scientist before descending the staircase in a hurry, his creature in hot pursuit. 

***

Victor cursed loudly as he smacked the steering wheel of Justine’s blue Toyota Echo. From the back seat, Creature watched as the miniature plushie on her rear-view mirror swung violently. 

What was that thing’s name again? Oh right, Totoro. That was it. 

Him and Justine had watched that movie just last week. It was good.

Parked in front of the electronic store, both could see that it was already closed, the last employee having gotten into his car just as they were pulling into the parking lot.

‘So … now what?’, ventured Creature. It was a tight fit in the backseat, but he preferred to sprawl out in the back over having his knees jammed up against the dash, even if that meant sharing the spot with Justine’s duffle bag as well and various other miscellaneous items. Plus, he felt less exposed than if he sat up front, in plain sight of strangers who would undoubtedly stare at his parchment skin or jaundice eyes. 

Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Victor pulled out of the parking lot and drove towards the town center, trying to come up with an alternative solution to their microwave problem. 

‘There has to be another place to get a microwave in town. We don’t have the time or gas to drive anywhere else. Keep your eyes peeled if you see any stores opened.’

Glancing out the window, Creature let his eyes wander up the tree-lined streets of their small college town. With the sun starting to set, the windows of homes to glowed with a comforting yellow light. Families were out walking and college students gathered on the patios of small restaurants and bars, talking and laughing. Each one having a life of their own, a family, a warm bed to return to at the end of the day.

‘Victor?’

‘Huh?’

‘You don’t think Henry would kick me out, do you? Because of the microwave?’

Still hunched over the steering wheel, Victor scoffed.

‘Pfft! Nah, it’s not his style. Henry’s too … nice.’

Stopping at a red light, Victor looked at Creature in rear-view mirror, the dark figure’s concerned face half-hidden by his hoodie. 

‘He’s always been that way’, Victor continued with a half-smile. ‘Sure, he’ll chew you out, but he never stays angry for long. If I’m being honest, he should have kicked me out months before you showed up, but … he didn’t.’

If he hadn’t known Victor better, Creature could have sworn he heard a hint of guilt in his voice.

Then the light turned green and the moment was gone. Victor quickly smirked back at Creature with his signature look of confidence.

‘Which is all the more reason for us to correct this little mishap before he finds out – ‘ 

‘THERE!’, Creature suddenly lunged forward and pointed toward a small second-hand shop on the corner. 

In the window, a microwave. Identical to Henry’s. 

Their relieved smiles were short-lived however, for they could see the owner slowly making his way towards the front door, about to lock up.

With a panicked ‘nonononono’ and a screeching of tires, Victor violently pulled into the first available spot that he saw on the car-packed street. 

‘Stay here, stay hidden and I’ll be back as soon as I can’, Victor sputtered before charging up the street and flailing his arms at the stunned shopkeeper with his key in the door.

Anxiously, Creature watched as Victor addressed the man. At first, the grey-haired figure seemed unwilling to make any more sales for the day. It was only when Victor took out his wallet, that the man half-heartedly gestured at him to come in.  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Creature sunk back down into the back seat.

It was then that he spotted her.

A stern looking woman in uniform with a notepad, coming up the street.

Looking at the cars.

_Oh no._

A cold chill ran down Creature’s spine as he glanced around for something to cover himself with. 

_‘No no no’_ , he thought hysterically to himself, _‘she’s coming this way. Is she a police officer? Oh no no, what if she finds you? She’s going to find you. She’s going to see you. She’s going to freak out and she’s going to call for backup and you don’t own this car! Oh God, what if she thinks you stole it? What if she thinks you’re some disfigured criminal junkie and they take you away like the freak that you are?’_

He sunk to the floor, covering his lap with Justine’s faded duffle bag and an ice scraper he found edged beneath the seat. As he awkwardly opened a broken umbrella to cover his face, he hoped and prayed that the approaching woman wouldn’t think twice about the giant man-shaped pile of clothes in the backseat.

He shut his eyes, mind still racing.

_‘Would Victor come get you if they took you away? He’d probably have to. What if Victor doesn’t WANT to? Stop it – no, if Victor doesn’t come get you, Henry will. Oh God, but what if Henry doesn’t? What if he’s still angry about the microwave? What if he sees this as the perfect opportunity to get rid of you and you end up locked away somewhere or back on the streets like in Antwerp, sleeping in the cold and starving and -?’_

The footsteps stopped. He could almost sense the woman looming over the car like a bad omen.

After an eternity of silence, he almost thought she had passed him by, but a thump coming from the windshield only made him sink deeper into the floor, trying his best to keep himself from shaking.

Several long minutes passed.

Then several more.

Creature was just about to risk a glance outside, when the sound of the car’s back door being thrown open made him yelp in utter fright.

‘Shhhhh! It’s just me, you idiot!’, hissed Victor as he placed the newly purchased microwave on the backseat.

Peaking out from behind the umbrella, Creature let out an unsteady sigh of relief. 

‘Is she gone?’, he asked, yellow eyes watery with unshed tears of panic. 

‘Is who gon – _oh come on!_ ’, Victor suddenly exclaimed, as he eyed the slip of paper tucked under the wiper. 

It was only then that he noticed the fire hydrant. 

***

Justine’s expression was as impassable as a brick wall, the only sign of her frustration being the occasional exhale through her nose, as if she was restraining herself with every fiber of her being to not tear both idiots in front of her apart.

‘So, what happened after that?’, she asked with crossed arms. 

‘Well, then we drove back. I put your keys back where I found them and we set up the new microwave. Henry still hasn’t seemed to notice anything different about – ‘

Justine raised her hand, cutting Creature off. 

‘I mean about the ticket. Were you just not going to tell me about it?’

'Well see', Victor fretfully replied, 'we were looking for the right moment to do so, but, uh ... '

Justine slumped down in Henry’s ugly green armchair with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying very, very hard not to scream.

‘We’re really sorry about everything Justine’, Creature said quietly, sheepishly twiddling his thumbs.

‘Is there … anything that can be done about the ticket?’, enquired Victor uncertainly.

‘I mean, I COULD try to contest the ticket in court – the problem is, it’s still my car, most parking tickets go to the registration of the vehicle. Plus, I don’t see how I can explain to a judge in court how my idiot neighbour and his undead creation stole my car to buy a microwave.’

With a weary groan, she stood back up, clasped her hands together and gave a stern look to the pair on the couch. 

‘Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re both going to find a way to cover the fees of the parking ticket AND the overdue fees. You're going to wash my car. You're going to refill my gas tank and Victor, I want a month's supply of that fancy rich-boy cereal of yours, the one with the berries.'

Victor cocked his head to the side, confused.

‘What the hell is the cereal for?’ 

‘The cereal is for you TAKING MY DAMN CAR WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, SCIENCE BOY’, Justine exploded, sending Victor cowering into the sofa.

She then snapped her gaze towards Creature, who’s yellow eyes widened at the sight of her fury.

‘And as for YOU, I expected better. No more sneaking up on people while they’re sleeping and taking their shit: not only is that rude, but it’s honestly pretty creepy. I don’t care if Victor told you to do it -'

'OKAY, WAIT, I NEVER TOLD HIM TO -', interjected Victor, before her signature STFU glare cut him off.

'I don’t care what the circumstances are; don’t do it AGAIN.’

Creature's head bobbed up and down like his reanimated life depended on it.

Swiping up the envelope, Justine headed back towards her apartment, but not without turning towards the boys one final time. 

‘And if I EVER see either of you near my car without my permission again, I _will_ kill you. I don’t care if you already died once Creature, I will kill you again if I have to.’

And with that, she slammed the door, leaving the pictures swinging on the walls and the terrified duo quivering on the couch.

After a moment, Creature’s voice nervously pipped up.

‘I mean, look on the bright side: Henry still doesn’t know about the microwave.’

‘What about my microwave?’

It was only then that they realised Henry had just returned from class.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was my longest one yet! And for good reason - I do love writing fun scenes like these, haha!
> 
> As you may have picked up, there were a few winks to the book here, what with Justine having been accused of a crime she did not commit and Creature finding her asleep.  
> But of course, this is 'magical sitcom universe', so instead of her, you know, _dying tragically_ , she gets to exact some well-deserved revenge upon the fools who did her wrong, and boy, do we love to see it. 
> 
> Also, Justine's delivery of 'science boy' is 100% the same as the famous _'wouldn't you like to know, weather boy'_ Vine and I am LIVING for it. 
> 
> As usual, a mighty thanks to Charlemagne for their invaluable insight and feedback!


	7. Curiosity and Cacti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Creature share a moment of bonding when the tall figure's curiosity is piqued by one of her mysterious houseplants.
> 
> As usual, a big thanks to Charlemagne1 for beta reading!

It was an odd plant. 

He had never seen anything like it. Not in Europe, nor throughout his wanderings here in North America.

It hung by the kitchen window, light green stems with small, tear-shaped leaves, though to him, they looked more like miniature bananas: small and plump and distinctively not leaf-like. The stems of the mystery plant spilled over the edge of the pot and hung like little tails over its side. Whatever it was, he liked it.

‘Hey Justine?’ Creature enquired as he towel-dried a cutting board, ‘do you know what that plant is?’

Justine looked up from the oven window, momentarily halting her inspection of their cheese-topped, triple-layered quesadilla cake - their newest joint effort in culinary exploration/abomination.

‘That one? Uhhh, I’m not sure … Liz would probably know though.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, those are all hers’, Justine gestured toward the miniature jungle that surrounded the kitchen window. ‘They were here when I moved in. She’s honestly really good with plants … unlike myself. My sister is still angry at me for killing her favourite houseplant I was 'babysitting' while she was on vacation; how was I suppose to know overwatering was worst than underwatering!?’

‘Well I'm glad you seem to handle actual children better than you do plants.’

‘Oh, shut up, you -’

With a joking flick of her dishcloth in the towering figure’s direction, Justine and Creature exchanged a snicker before returning to their tasks.

‘Anyway, she’ll be home any minute now’, continued Justine, glancing at the wall clock as she put away some glasses, ‘you can ask her then.’ 

A look of panic suddenly crossed Justine’s face and her eyes darted to the dry-eraser calendar that was fixed to the fridge’s door.

‘Oh shoot!’, she sputtered, throwing down her dishcloth. ‘Tomorrow’s garbage day and it’s my turn to take out the trash. Liz is gonna be pissed if I forget again. Hold on.’

Justine had already dashed to the garbage can in the corner and tied the bag shut before Creature could so much as ask if she needed a hand.

Slipping into a pair of sandals despite the cool fall weather (then again, Justine could probably walk out in a snowstorm with flip-flops on and not even flinch), the girl was out the door in a flash, her footsteps echoing down the staircase.

Creature turned his attention back towards the strange plant and the many others that garnished the windowsill. Some were tall and placed on the ground, their leaves stretching towards the window, ready to greet tomorrow’s morning sun. Some were small and sat in spikey trios, like gossiping elders. Some were in colourful clay pots, others in repurposed cottage cheese containers. Each one however, had a vibrant, healthy shade. He mused that perhaps it was Elizabeth’s music that made them grow so well. He remembered reading that in a book once.

During his first week at the apartment, Creature had been taken aback when the melancholic notes of a cello drifted in through the open window.

‘That’s Liz, our neighbor’, Henry had explained after seeing him pause. ‘She’s really talented! Plays like, three instruments or something. Cello, keyboard and … ukulele I think? Anyway, she’s super sweet. I think she’s studying music composition or something like that, I’d have to ask Victor.’

‘Victor?’

‘Yeah, he knows her a bit better than me. I think they were friends growing up or something?’

Creature had a hard time imagining his creator as a child. Victor’s bags and sour expression were so cemented into his person that anything else seemed ridiculous to visualise. He was curious about this childhood friend though.  


‘Do you recall how they know each other?’

‘I’m not quite sure actually,’ had replied Henry, scratching his stubble. ‘Victor’s parents used to have a summer house where Liz grew up I think, but that’s really all I know. Hell, when he showed up, he had no idea she was living next door. The whole situation was honestly kinda hilarious. I think they used to be pretty close too, but again, I don’t know much more - after all, this is Victor we’re talking about. He never tells anyone anything.’

Slowly making his way to the mysterious houseplant, Creature tentatively brushed a large boney finger against one of it’s hanging tails. 

‘Careful’, came a voice from behind him. ‘That one’s delicate.’

Creature snapped his hand back, the motion causing a small cluster of fleshy leaves to fall to the floor, earning a sharp intake of breath from the culprit.

Liz chuckled softly from the doorway. Kicking off her heels and placing down her battered cello case, she strutted across the room, her simple black dress swishing as she went. It was a sharp contrast to the regular ripped jeans and baggy shirts he usually saw her in while she was at home, bent over her laptop mixing tracks. To earn extra money during her studies, Liz would often perform at weddings, funerals and other events, along with a couple musician friends of hers from the university’s music department.  


Creature’s yellow eyes darted to the leaves at his feet.

‘Sorry Elizabeth, I didn’t mean to!’, he exclaimed, bending down to pick up the evidence of his crimes. 

The petite blond approached him, and upon gently turning the suspended pot to inspect the damage, she gave him a reassuring smile.

‘No harm done. This guy is a finicky one, but donkey tails are pretty forgiving, all things considered.’

‘Donkey tails?’

‘Yep, that’s their name. Although sometimes they’re called burro’s tail. They’re actually part of the succulent family, so the same as …’

She scoured the windowsill a moment, before retrieving a terra-cotta pot containing a few thick stems with waxy oval leaves, dark green in color.

‘This one. This is a jade succulent.’

With an exclamation of awe, Creature turned back to the window, eager to ask more questions.

‘What about this one?’, he asked, pointing towards a small roundish plant covered in quills. Liz's surprise at his interest melted into cautious excitement.

‘Ah, that one is a pincushion cactus. See, cacti are technically part of the succulent family, which just means that they retain water and are well adapted to dry climates, but not all succulents are cacti.’

Setting down the jade succulent and picking up the cactus, she invited Creature to lay his finger on the small prickly ball. Although he wasn’t as sensitive to pain as regular people, he could still imagine how falling into a pile of these cacti things would not be a pleasant experience.

‘The spines’, continued Liz, ‘are actually modified leaves and they’re pretty much a defense mechanism for the plant. The more unappealing they are on the outside, the less they have to deal with, well … anyone bothering them.’  


‘Woah, we talking about cacti or about a certain prickly scientist we all know?’, interrupted Justine, who had just come in from her covert trash trip. 

‘Oh hey Justine!’, greeted Elizabeth. ‘Did you take out the –?’

‘Uuugh, yes _mom!_ ’, Justine groaned, but her wink to Creature on her way to the oven assured him that her annoyance was only for show.

Turning back to Elizabeth, Creature noticed she had gone silent, staring down at the small spinney plant with an unreadable expression on her freckled face.

‘I’m sorry if I annoyed you with all this … plant stuff’, she muttered embarrassedly, tucking a wild curl behind her pierced ear as she placed the cactus back on the sill. 

‘Annoyed? What makes you think that?’ When she didn’t respond, he continued.

‘Elizabeth, I can assure you, I quite enjoyed this conversation. I only wish I had your knowledge when it came to this … as you put it, plant stuff.’

She risked a glance at him, her blue eyes exposing a weariness he couldn’t quite comprehend.

Suddenly, she stepped back, the moment dissolved. Holding up a finger, she darted towards her bedroom door.

‘Hold on just a second’, she called as she disappeared.

She returned shortly after with a white ceramic pot.

In it, was a small, strange little thing, a spiky orb seemingly balancing on top of a dark green base. The top was dusky purple in color, and Creature noticed the tiniest of buds on one of its many prickly ribs. 

‘It’s called a moon cactus’, explained Liz, stretching up on her toes the level the pot with his eyes. ‘I have a few of these. This type of cactus is actually grafted from two completely different cacti. They’re ... really pretty when they bloom.’

Softly, she pressed the pot into his parchment-pale hands. 

‘I want you to have this one’, she said gently.

‘Oh, I don’t – I don’t know anything about caring for plants’, he stammered, holding the little pot awkwardly against himself.

‘You don’t have to. They’re surprisingly easy to take care of. You just need to give them sunshine, a little water and in time … they’ll eventually open up to you.’

He was almost about to retort, but something about her words made him stop. Holding up the unusual little plant to his face, he couldn’t help but find it … oddly charming. 

Peering down from his great height, he offered Liz a small, unsure smile.

‘Thank you.’

‘Heeeey, how come you never gave me a plant before?’, exclaimed Justine in mock annoyance from the kitchen where she had just placed the quesadilla cake on the counter. 

‘Because I distinctly remember you telling me that anything green you touch dies’, Liz teasingly replied, as she circled the counter to take out some forks.

‘True, true’, confessed Justine with a smirk, slicing the cheesy baked creation into slices. ‘Oh well, that’s why I leave the plant parenting to the professionals. Creach, you wanna come grab the plates so we can eat?’

With one last heartfelt look at his little moon cactus, Creature gently placed the small plant down on the counter and went to help set the table.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plant-mom Liz makes her appearance at last, yay!
> 
> With that, I've gone through all the basic character introductions for the main crew. 
> 
> Much like the way I reworked Justine's character for this AU, I'm doing the same for Elizabeth, which is a rather daunting task, to say the least.
> 
> Elevating her role from 'glorified plot-device' to a three-dimensional character brings up a lot of interesting challenges when reworking her for this setting: how different is her dynamic with others characters when placed in the modern world, now seperate from the book's original narrative? What are her goals, wants and needs as a character, independent of the original plot? 
> 
> It's a lot to think about, and I have been putting a lot of thought into how I want to devellop her, but after months of reworking and tweaking, I'm finaly satisfied with the arc I have planned out. Super excited to explore that in upcoming chapters!


End file.
